


Celebration

by flaming_muse



Category: Glee
Genre: Episode Tag, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-07
Updated: 2011-10-07
Packaged: 2017-10-24 09:35:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/261868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flaming_muse/pseuds/flaming_muse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine was thrilled beyond belief, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to be.</p><p>Episode tag to 3x03.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Celebration

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Deutsch available: [Celebration -- Ein Grund zum Feiern](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9627698) by [Klaineship](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Klaineship/pseuds/Klaineship)



Blaine tried not to vibrate too much in the passenger seat of Kurt’s car after school. He fiddled with the edge of his seatbelt, but he didn’t let his leg bounce or his fingers tap on his thigh. He was happy, really happy, but he tried to keep it contained in his chest where it belonged. He’d gotten the part of Tony, but that meant that Kurt hadn’t, so he had to keep from bubbling over with it even though “I got it! I got it! I got it!” was running on a continuous loop in the back of his mind. He was thrilled to have been noticed for his abilities at McKinley, at somewhere other than Dalton, but it still came at the cost of Kurt getting the role. He had to keep his excitement under control. It was the right thing to do.

It wasn’t easy. He was _thrilled_. He’d get to sing and dance in this iconic musical, and he knew that playing off of Rachel as Maria would keep him on his toes in a thrilling way (even if that was another reason to feel tentative about the part around Kurt, given his complicated duet history with her from the previous year). And he was only a junior. The part should in fairness have gone to a senior, and he’d gotten it, anyway. They really liked him. He’d really have a place in this school, maybe not at the height of the popularity he’d enjoyed at Dalton, but a place of his own, nonetheless.

The problem was that if the part hadn’t been given to him it would have been Kurt’s. Kurt, who was a senior. Kurt, who was amazing. Kurt, whom Blaine loved more than anything.

So Blaine was thrilled beyond belief, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to be.

“I had a pop quiz in math today,” he said when Kurt turned out of the school parking lot and drew a breath to say something. It wasn’t exactly the most diverting topic of conversation, but at least it meant Kurt didn’t have to talk about the play.

“Oh?” Kurt glanced over at him, but he was a good driver and didn’t take his eyes off of the road for long. “How did it go?”

“I aced it,” Blaine said proudly, and if some of his other excitement bled through into the statement he thought he got away with it. “Although you should have heard the class groan when Mr. Dmitri pulled it out at the beginning of class, like it’s against the Geneva Convention for a teacher to test if we’re paying attention and doing our homework.”

Kurt snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous. Most of them have no idea what the Geneva Convention is.”

Blaine thought of the other students in his class, so largely disinterested even in the honors section, and had to admit Kurt had a point. “Well, I think they dug their own graves, because I bet he’ll give us a quiz every week now. I would, if I were the teacher.”

“if you were the teacher you’d sing them songs about derivatives from on top of the desks,” Kurt said, and he smiled fondly over at Blaine. Blaine could almost imagine himself doing that; he pondered a few rhymes for ‘derivative’. “And all of the girls and half of the boys would fall in love with you.”

“I don’t think half of the boys in my class are gay, Kurt.”

“What does that matter?” Kurt smiled again, this time a little more knowingly, and Blaine had to laugh.

“Thank you for the vote of confidence,” Blaine said. “Anyway, I got the highest score in the class on the quiz.” He found himself bouncing his leg with the excitement of the day, and he pushed his heel to the floor of the car and made himself stop.

“That’s because you’re used to challenging classes and doing your homework,” Kurt told him. “You’ll get over that soon.”

“I don’t think I will,” Blaine admitted after thinking about it for a second. “I don’t like feeling unprepared. I mean, I would probably have done okay on the quiz just from what we’d gone over in class, but I’m glad I did the homework.”

Kurt leaned over and patted Blaine’s knee, the touch nowhere intimate enough for any reasonable person to account for the surge of interest that flowed through Blaine’s body, but then Blaine had never been all that reasonable about Kurt. “I don’t think you’ll change, either, and that’s a good thing. The best way to deal with McKinley is to be what you want and not what it wants you to be.”

Blaine smiled, but Kurt’s statement made him feel kind of sick inside. Kurt had tried to be what he wanted at McKinley - the lead in the play - and Blaine had taken it from him. And now Rachel was going to try to take away the class presidency Kurt had already been fighting to win against Brittany.

Blaine wondered if Kurt felt about him the same way he felt about Rachel and her bid for class president, and he immediately shot down the idea. He knew Kurt didn’t. He just wondered if Kurt _should_.

He redoubled his efforts to divert Kurt with tales of his math class, and he felt the guilt recede when he got Kurt to laugh over Artie doing impressions of Mr. Dmitri with the teacher standing right behind him.

By the time they were in line at the Lima Bean, Blaine could almost believe that this was any normal day. They’d been to the Lima Bean so many times since they’d met, and there was a comfort that settled over him even just walking in the door. They’d fought there, laughed there, admitted feelings there for good or ill, and it was all theirs. In Dalton uniforms, in street clothes picked to please themselves and (they hoped) each other, there was a feeling for Blaine that they could be themselves at the Lima Bean. It wasn’t school or their homes with the expectations of the other people in their lives; despite the Lima Bean being busy, it was a place just for them.

“You should get a cookie to celebrate,” Kurt told him as they edged forward. “They have those kitchen sink ones you like so much, despite the unappealing name and even less appealing taste.”

Blaine shook his head, half amused by Kurt’s commentary and half eyeing the pastry display, because he really did love those cookies, and they were usually sold out by the time the afternoon rolled around.

“I’m buying,” Kurt said, drawing out the words in an obvious bid to tempt him. “You could probably even convince me to get you two.”

“Two? It’s just a quiz,” Blaine said with a laugh.

Kurt rolled his eyes, but there was a warmth to the gesture that lodged in Blaine’s chest. “I’m not buying you a cookie to celebrate your quiz, Blaine; I’m buying you a cookie - or two - to celebrate your _part_.”

Blaine’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, but the rest of him froze for a second. God, he didn’t want to talk about the play with Kurt, except that he _did_ , because he felt excited and awful all at once, and Kurt was the best person he knew to talk to about thing kind of thing.

“Thank you,” he said with a smile that he hoped looked less torn than he felt, because it really was a sweet gesture, like the flowers Kurt had brought him. He might not deserve them, but he couldn’t reject them. “Then I accept. Two.”

“A medium drip, a nonfat mocha, and two kitchen sink cookies, please,” Kurt ordered when they reached the counter. “And an almond biscotti.” He glanced over at Blaine as he pulled out his wallet, and the corner of his mouth turned up. “It’s not right to make you celebrate alone, but I draw the line at those horrible cookies.”

“They’re not horrible; they’re _delicious_ ,” Blaine said as they walked along the counter to where their drinks would be ready.

Kurt held the plate with Blaine’s cookies in one hand and pulled it away when Blaine reached for it. “They are named after a plumbing fixture. Although, given what they look like, I think they should have been named after whatever comes out of a garbage disposal.”

“Oh, stop,” Blaine said, laughing, and this time he managed to grab the cookies out of Kurt’s grip. Kurt grinned at him, plucked his biscotti from the plate, and turned to accept their drinks from the barista.

Blaine grabbed their usual array of condiments, stirrers, and napkins and followed Kurt as he threaded through the tables to one by the window. It was a sunny day, and the sidewalk just beyond the glass was busy, but Blaine let out a breath as they sat down across from each other in their own little island of peace and caffeine.

Kurt settled his bag by his chair and flicked a few crumbs off of the table in front of him before lifting his coffee in a salute and saying, “Congratulations.” He smiled at Blaine and took a sip.

“Thank you,” Blaine said and returned the toast before pulling off a piece of cookie and popping it into his mouth. It was _so_ good, so many flavors all at once that he couldn’t pick them out. It was a jumble of wonderfulness. “Oh, wow. Mmm. That’s good.”

Kurt was a little pink when Blaine looked up, but he just shook his head and took a bite of his own cookie. “You’re welcome. It’s the least I can do. I’m happy for you.”

Blaine swallowed too fast and had to drink some coffee before he could get the lump of cookie and guilt out of his throat. “I know,” he said, smiling as well as he could, because Kurt was being wonderful. “The flowers kind of clued me in.”

Kurt swallowed his drink more slowly and set down his cup with a twist to his mouth like his mocha was unusually bitter. “Only the flowers?” he asked in a deceptively light tone, only Blaine knew him too well to believe it.

“No,” Blaine said quickly. Kurt wasn’t the problem here, and he couldn’t let him think that. “Not just the flowers. You’re being great, Kurt. So great.” He broke off another piece of cookie but toyed with it on his plate instead of eating it. “But I know you wanted the part, too.”

“I saw you audition, Blaine,” Kurt replied steadily. “I know you should be Tony. I knew it from the minute you started to sing. Even before that, even before your audition I knew it.”

A rush of elation at the praise thundered through Blaine, making his pulse tap-dance, and he tried to tamp it down, but _he was going to play Tony_. “But I know how much you wanted it. You’d be an amazing Tony.”

Kurt shrugged his agreement. “Thank you,” he said, like it hadn’t crushed him, like he hadn’t been talking about it since they announced the musical, like he hadn’t been counting on it as part of his plans to get into college, like he hadn’t worked so hard on his audition, _both_ of his auditions.

“It’s okay to be disappointed,” Blaine told him. “You don’t have to hide that from me. I know you are.” It would be easier for Blaine if Kurt didn’t hide it, really. If it were out there between them, if Kurt’s unhappiness at not getting the part because Blaine had changed his mind and agreed to read for the role were _out there_ , it wouldn’t have to be all inside of Blaine, churning in his stomach right next to and entwined with his joy.

“Of course I’m disappointed,” Kurt said with a roll of his eyes. “Obviously. But the part was _yours_ , Blaine, and you deserve it. I’m not blind. And I may be self-centered, but I’d like to think I’m not actually _selfish_ all that often.” The hint of bitterness was in his voice now, and it clearly wasn’t from his coffee.

“No, I didn’t mean that,” Blaine rushed to assure him. “But I - I don’t know. You’re being... great.” The last word came out weakly. Kurt wasn't simply being wonderful; he was being better than Blaine deserved, given what Blaine had taken from him. Blaine looked down at the table, a little sick again.

They sat quietly for a minute, because Blaine had no idea how to put into words what he was feeling. He loved Kurt, loved everything about him, loved everything he was saying and doing, loved his unflinching support, but somehow it still didn’t feel okay.

Kurt broke the silence, speaking softly. “Blaine, even if I’d been sure the part should have been mine, why wouldn’t I be happy for _you_?"

Blaine looked up from his plate. “Well,” he said, casting about for anything to make his feelings make sense, anything besides the really obvious fact that _he_ had taken Kurt’s part, “I seem to remember you being annoyed about the distribution of the solos in the Warblers.”

“That was the Warblers,” Kurt told him. A grin ghosted across his face as he continued. “And you have to admit you had a monopoly there that would have made John D. Rockefeller green with envy.”

Blaine ducked his head and laughed, because it was so true. “I can’t really argue with that.”

They both fell quiet again, and then Kurt said with a slow introspection, “That was _different_ , Blaine. That was me being frustrated that the Warblers were unable to think of anything but what they’ve always done, stand and sway behind a single charismatic leader.” He wiped a splatter of foam off of the lid of his cup with his thumb. “And that was me wanting - “ He paused minutely. “ - a lot of things. But even then, it wasn’t like I didn’t see how talented and deserving you were. Are.”

He met Blaine’s eyes, and Blaine reached out to take Kurt’s hand, squeezing his fingers tightly.

“You’re right that I’m disappointed, but I’m happy for you. And the happiness is much, much bigger. Okay?” Kurt watched him as he spoke, open and honest, like he almost always was with Blaine. Blaine could believe him. He could. It was okay.

Blaine nodded but couldn’t get a word out from around the lump in his throat.

“And,” Kurt continued, “I know you would have been happy for me, too, if our roles were reversed and you were Krupke.”

“I would,” Blaine promised him. He couldn’t imagine how he could feel otherwise.

Kurt searched his eyes, and Blaine had no idea what Kurt found there, but it made Kurt smile to himself. “Then what’s the problem?” he asked. “Why aren’t you jumping out of your seat? You’re playing _Tony_!”

Blaine’s heart leaped at the thought, and he couldn’t keep the delighted grin from spreading across his face. “I am!” he said and squeezed Kurt’s hand again before letting go. His leg began to bounce under the table, and this time he didn’t try to stop it. It was okay. Kurt was okay. It was all okay.

Kurt’s answering smile was wide and genuine. “I know. And I appreciate you not bringing back the victory dance you and Finn came up with this summer for your rare board game night wins in your celebration.” He put a hand to his head as if getting a headache. “And the chant. God, the chant.”

Laughter bubbled out of Blaine, pushing his unhappiness out with it, and he popped another bite of his delicious, delicious cookie into his mouth. It tasted even better now. “The chant was Finn’s idea,” he reminded Kurt.

“That doesn’t matter. You went along with it. As I recall, _four times_ in a row.” Kurt sipped at his mocha.

“Like you didn’t spend every single game talking smack again whoever you were competing against. Me, your dad, Finn, Rachel, _Carole_. The things you said to your poor step-mother, Kurt.”

Kurt grinned, his eyes sparkling at Blaine over the rim of his cup. “Oh, Carole can take it. She’s the toughest of us all.”

“You nearly made _me_ cry over Pictionary,” Blaine teased; the only real threat of tears on those nights had been tears of laughter.

“It’s not my fault you’re so sensitive about your drawing skills. Or lack of them.”

Blaine smiled at him, so happy, so grateful. He had the best part in the play, and he had his boyfriend right there across the table with him, laughing with him, supporting him, loving him.

“It’s better when we’re on the same side,” he said, a little wistful about more than just the board games.

Kurt picked up on the complexity of his meanings, just like he always did. “We’re always on the same side, Blaine,” he said gently. “Even when we’re competing against each other.”

“I know.” And when Blaine reached out across the table for his hand again, Kurt’s was there already, waiting to meet him. It wasn’t a kiss, it couldn’t be a kiss, Blaine _wished_ it were a kiss, but it was enough.


End file.
